


Want

by stopmysinfulhand



Series: Gimme, Gimme, Gimme [15]
Category: DC Extended Universe, WW84 - Fandom, Wonder Woman (Movies - Jenkins), wonder woman 1984 - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blowjobs, Child Neglect, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Fellatio, Maxwell is successful actually, Protected Sex, Smut, Spanking, Teacher!Reader, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28928214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmysinfulhand/pseuds/stopmysinfulhand
Summary: “Oh, I know. I saw you on my television last night,” you told him. “Imagine my surprise when I flip channels and there you are, telling me life is good—”“But it can be better,” Max quoted immediately, even going so far as to do the hand gestures. “All you have to do is want it.”You considered him for a moment. You stood from your chair and circled your desk, resting your backside against the edge. You crossed your arms over your chest. “Do you know what I want, Mr. Lord?” you asked softly.You are Alistair's teacher, and while you care deeply for the child, his father is a whole other story. When Maxwell confesses to you that he wants to be a better dad, you start to warm up to him. Maybe a little too much.
Relationships: Maxwell Lord/Reader, Maxwell Lord/You
Series: Gimme, Gimme, Gimme [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1137416
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Want

**Author's Note:**

> AU where Maxwell is actually a successful business man, but still kind of a shitty dad

Alistair was a good kid. It wasn’t his fault that his dad was a neglectful piece of shit. You didn’t know much about Maxwell Lord, through no fault of your own; Every parent-teacher conference you had ever tried to have with the man was either cancelled, or rescheduled and then cancelled. Alistair’s mother, on the other hand, was a lovely and caring woman whose care for Alistair was as obvious as her disdain for his father. 

Your heart bled for the kid. Thank goodness he only saw his father on alternating weekends. You were pretty sure if Maxwell Lord were tasked with picking up his child from school, Alistair would be forgotten time and again. 

It was on a Thursday, your day for carline duty, that you were, unfortunately, proven correct. Alistair’s mother had called you earlier in the day to tell you that Alistair’s father was tasked with picking up their son once the school day was done. You stood with your back against one of the metal poles upholding the covering over the sidewalk area and checked your watch. It was almost 5 PM, and no sign of Maxwell Lord. The boy sat cross legged on the cement, slumped over with his elbows on his knees and his cheeks in his hands. He was the picture of disappointment, and it broke your heart. You were just about to walk over to him and offer to call his dad when a black Sedan rushed into the parking lot, screeching to a halt next to the covered sidewalk. Alistair, clearly relieved, hopped up, but you stopped him before he could run to the car. “Give me a moment to talk to your dad, okay, Alistair?” you asked him, eyeing the Sedan warily. 

“Yes, Miss,” Alistair said dutifully, making you smile. 

You dropped the smile as you tried not to stomp over to the Sedan. Just before you got to it, the driver’s side door popped open, and Maxwell emerged. He was dressed in a smart looking suit, with a pair of aviator shades obscuring his eyes. He smiled as soon as he noticed you and smoothed back his, clearly dyed, blond hair. “Hello, you must be—” he started to say. 

“Mr. Lord,” you interrupted in a hiss, “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Maxwell’s smile dropped immediately. His shoulders slumped slightly, visible even with the shoulder pads in his suit jacket. “I do,” he replied quietly. “I’m sorry, work was just so busy—”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” you interrupted yet again. “You left Alistair alone here for three hours. Three hours, Mr. Lord. Do you know what that does to a kid?” 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you whipped around before he could utter a word and went back to Alistair. “Alistair, do you feel comfortable riding with this man?” you asked, squatting down to his level so you could look him in the eyes; a feat, considering the heels you were wearing. 

“Yes ma’am, that’s my daddy,” he told you with a smile. 

You nodded and stood, looking back to Maxwell, who had visibly paled. “Hey, buddy,” Maxwell greeted his son as he ran to him for a hug. Max opened the back door for his son and helped him inside. 

“See you tomorrow, Miss!” Alistair called, waving to you before Max shut the door. 

You stopped Maxwell before he could get back into the car. “We need to have a meeting,” you told him. “No more avoiding me, do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed weakly. Maxwell cleared his throat. “I’ll have my secretary contact you.”

“No, sir. We’re going to plan it right now,” you told him. “How about tomorrow after school? Alistair’s mother said you were picking him up tomorrow as well.” 

You could see his eyes dart around behind his aviators. You had him nearly pressed against the Sedan. Even though you had to look up at him, you cut an imposing figure, especially when you used your teacher voice. “Tomorrow will work,” Maxwell said finally. 

“4 o’clock,” you told him. 

“4 o’clock,” he agreed. 

You nodded and finally backed away, allowing him to get in his car. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Lord.”

Now secure in his vehicle, he turned the charm back on. “I look forward to it,” he told you, looking at you over the rim of his sunglasses. His smile was pretty, but you weren’t fooled. He was an asshole. 

You crossed your arms over your chest as you watched him drive away. “Asshole,” you murmured under your breath before turning and walking back into the school building.

* * *

After school the next day, you sat patiently in your classroom, grading worksheets with Alistair working on homework seated in a desk across from you. You had given him some Goldfish to snack on while you both waited for his dad, and he crunched on them happily, his legs swinging from the chair. 

At 4 o’clock exactly, there was a soft knock at your classroom door. You and Alistair looked up as Maxwell peeked his head in. “Daddy!” Alistair said brightly. He ran to give his father a hug, and Max smiled at his son, returning the hug. 

“Come in, Mr. Lord,” you said, standing. “Alistair, will you wait outside while I talk to your dad?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Alistair said dutifully.

Maxwell patted his son’s shoulder as they switched places and took the seat across from you when offered. He was much larger than the chair, and looked uncomfortable in the children’s desk. You fought a smile and sat as well. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Lord,” you greeted amicably. “I apologize if I was too forceful yesterday afternoon.”

“Well, it certainly got me here,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t worry about it.”

You smiled softly. He had a nice laugh. “It’s very nice to finally meet you,” you mused. “Before the school year is done.”

His laugh turned awkward and he downturned his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. “I am sorry about that,” he said. “My business keeps me very, er, busy.” Max flashed you a sheepish smile.

“Oh, I know. I saw you on my television last night,” you told him. “Imagine my surprise when I flip channels and there you are, telling me life is good—”

“But it can be better,” Max quoted immediately, even going so far as to do the hand gestures. “All you have to do is want it.”

You considered him for a moment. You stood from your chair and circled your desk, resting your backside against the edge. You crossed your arms over your chest. “Do you know what I want, Mr. Lord?” you asked softly. 

He leaned forward until the little desk pressed into his stomach. “What do you want, Miss (Y/N)?” Max’s smile was eager. 

“I want—” You leaned forward so you could coo the rest of your answer in his face. “—For you to pay more attention to your son.” You straightened and were about to walk around your desk again when he caught your wrist. “Wha—?”

“You’re right,” Max said, standing from the small desk. “Alistair means everything to me, and I—” He paused. His eyebrows were knit together and there was pain evident in his eyes. “I want to be a good father,” he said softly. “I want that more than anything.” 

Max seemed to have the same power to break your heart that his son did. “Mr. Lord, I don’t know what to say,” you replied softly. You turned towards him while gently extracting your wrist from his grasp. “I believe you can be a good father. Alistair thinks the world of you. All he wants is for you to be there for him,” you explained. 

“Will you help me?” he asked. 

“Mr. Lord—”

“Max,” interrupted Max. “Please, call me Max.”

“Max,” you continued dubiously, blinking up at him and meeting his rich brown eyes. Such pretty eyes. Jesus, snap out of it, kid. “I don’t know if this is appropriate.” 

“No funny business,” Max said, holding his hands up. “It’s just, you see Alistair everyday. I see him every other weekend, and sometimes not even that. If you could keep me up to date with how he’s doing, tell me what I could do to improve—”

You held up your hand to stop him. “I’ve tried doing that, Mr. Lord, er, Max. Do you think I do these parent-teacher conferences for my health?” When he smiled at your joke, you continued. “What guarantee do I have that I’ll even be able to get into contact with you?”

Max lunged around you and picked up a piece of paper and a crayon from your desk. “Can I write on this?” he asked. 

“Um, sure—?”

Maxwell hastily scribbled something onto the paper and handed it to you. “Here. This is my personal number. You can reach me there almost any time.” 

You considered the phone number, written surprisingly neat despite being green crayon. “And if I can’t reach you?” you asked, looking up at him again. 

He carefully took back the paper and wrote more information down. “My home phone and address,” said Max, returning the paper to your hands. 

You exhaled through your lips. “You’re serious about this,” you said flatly.

“Deadly,” he confirmed with a nod. “I told you, my son means everything to me. I don’t want to be an absent father.”

There was something hanging in the air between the two of you, a tension you couldn’t quite name as you stared at each other. “Alright,” you said finally after the threat of getting lost in his eyes became too much for you to bear. You looked away and sighed heavily. “I’ll call you once a week.”

“How about every day?” he pushed.

You blinked rapidly and looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Mr. Lord, I have a job,” you said flatly. “As much as I care for Alistair, he’s not my child. There are other kids I need to pay attention to.”

Max deflated slightly. You couldn’t stand that kicked puppy dog look he got when you turned him down. 

“I… May be able to do three times a week,” you mumbled. You were never very good at negotiation. 

He brightened considerably. “Really? Oh, thank you, (Y/N),” Max said, taking your hand in his. He shook it quickly, holding your hand for just a beat too long. “You’re too kind.”

“Don’t I know it,” you grumbled, using the hand not holding his crayon-scribbled notes to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Go on and get Alistair. I’ll call you on Monday, I guess.”

“Call me whenever you like,” Max said. “I’ll answer, I promise.”

You circled your desk and plopped into your chair. “Goodbye, Mr. Lord.”

“Goodbye, (Y/N),” he said with a smile. “I look forward to your call.” 

“Mhm,” you replied tiredly, rubbing your eyes. You heard the door to your classroom open and Max say, “C’mon, buddy, let’s go,” then you were alone in your class. Max’s note was placed in front of you, the green numbers staring back at you. “What have I done?” you asked yourself quietly. The last thing you needed was to report on a regular basis to a parent; you already had to do that with the school principal. 

* * *

Two weeks after Maxwell asked you to check in with him regularly, there was an incident. It was Saturday, one of your two days off. It was _supposed_ to be uneventful. That was, until you got a call on your landline, interrupting the fascinating novel you were reading. “Hello?” you asked, trying not to let annoyance bleed into your tone. 

“(Y/N)?” Maxwell’s panicked voice crackled through the receiver. “I need your help.”

You straightened. “Mr. Lord? What’s wrong?” you asked quickly, trying not to match his panic. 

“I need you to come over as soon as possible,” he said. “I’ll explain everything when you get here.”

“Max, what—?”

“Please,” he said, his voice wavering. 

You swallowed hard. “I’ll be there in 10 minutes,” you told him. 

The ride to Maxwell’s house was excruciating as you tried not to get pulled over while driving as fast as you could. You pulled into the circular drive in front of Maxwell’s McMansion. Max was out front and met you as you exited your vehicle. You followed him wordlessly into the large house, trying to stay focused and not marvel at the foyer. He led you into the kitchen where Alistair was seated on the counter, blood weeping from a thin gash in the center of his forehead. “Miss (Y/N)!” Alistair greeted you brightly. Blood had dripped down his face to stain the collar of his t-shirt, but he looked otherwise fine. 

“What happened?” you asked, rushing to his side to get a better look at his cut. 

“Alistair was swinging on the playset,” Max explained, going to Alistair’s other side. “He fell off the tire swing and hit his head, and I just—” You met his eyes. He was so pale. He looked worse than his son did, and he wasn’t even injured. 

“It’s okay,” you said soothingly, going into comfort mode. “Do you have a first aid kit?” He nodded and retrieved it from a nearby restroom. With the supplies, you carefully cleaned the cut on Alistair’s forehead and bandaged it. With the blood cleared, it was even smaller than you originally thought. “There we go,” you cooed with a nod. “Good as new. Feel okay, Alistair?”

The child nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I feel fine.” 

“Any blurred vision?” Max asked. He held up his hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three,” Alistair answered immediately. You could feel the desire he had to roll his eyes, but he resisted, bless his heart. 

When Alistair moved to jump down, Max stopped him, lifting him carefully to the ground. “Don’t want you to fall again,” he explained. 

“Dad,” Alistair sighed. 

You grinned. “Go change your shirt, Alistair,” you said, nodding towards the kitchen exit. “I’ll talk with your dad.”

“Thank you, Miss (Y/N),” said Alistair, smiling up at you before running up the stairs to his room. 

As soon as his son was gone, Maxwell collapsed into one of the chairs at the breakfast bar. 

“You look terrible, Max,” you told him, sitting in the chair next to him. 

“Thank you for coming,” he sighed, rubbing his face. 

“Why on Earth did you call me?” you asked.

Max paused a beat before he answered. “I don’t know,” he groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “I knew it wasn’t bad enough for the hospital, but I didn’t— I couldn’t,” he corrected, “take care of it myself.”

“Why didn’t you call his mother?” you asked gently. 

“Oh, so many reasons,” Max sighed. “She wouldn’t be able to get here in time, for one.”

“So it was just because I’m accessible?”

Max cracked a smile. “If I said yes, would you be offended?” he asked wryly. 

“How did you even get my home phone number?” you asked, tilting your head. “I’ve only checked in with you over the school phone.”

“Phone book,” he answered sheepishly. 

“Lucky guess,” you said warily, eyeing him. 

“You were my third try, actually,” he sighed. “I imagine the two other (Y/N) (L/N)’s in the D.C. area are not happy with me at the moment.” 

You laughed. You couldn’t help it. After the stress of getting there, and the relief of there not really being anything wrong, the need to laugh was stronger than ever. You muffled your laughter with your hands, but your shoulders still shook. 

“Don’t laugh,” Maxwell pleaded, unable to keep from chuckling himself. “Please. It’s serious.”

“You’re hopeless, Max,” you managed to say through your laughter. 

“I know,” he sighed. Max stood from his chair, and you took a good look at him. Before you had been very one-track minded, worried about Alistair. Now, you could let your mind wander and appreciate the black polo shirt he wore tucked into well-fitting khakis. He rubbed his hands together, and your eyes tracked down his arms, watching the way his forearms flexed. “Can I get you a drink?”

Your eyes flitted quickly back to his face. He looked amused; he had definitely caught you checking him out. “Hm? Oh, no, thank you.” You stood, brushing off your capris. “I should probably get going,” you said. “I think the situation is handled.” 

“Won’t you stay for lunch?” Max pleaded. “I’m making tuna sandwiches.”

You hesitated, weighing the pros and cons in your head. It was inappropriate. You weren’t even supposed to be at his house. Granted, there were only four weeks left to the semester, and then Alistair would no longer be your student. If you stayed, you wouldn’t have to make your own lunch, and you’d get to watch how Maxwell really interacted with his son. You could also see if your informational calls had been effective. Plus, you liked tuna sandwiches. 

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” you said. You looked him up and down again, then sucked in a breath. “But, I won’t turn down a free lunch.” Your brain supplied an adage your mother used to tell you: There was no such thing as a free lunch. You supposed you were about to find out if that was true or not. 

Max’s immediate smile caused a spark of warmth to travel all the way to your toes. “I’m so glad to hear that,” he said. “Now you have to let me get you something to drink.” He turned to go towards the bar on the far wall, but you stopped him. 

“Just water, if you don’t mind,” you said politely. While Max got you a glass, you wandered towards the main sitting space, marveling at the vaulted ceilings and windows that looked out over the yard. You could see the playset Max had mentioned, as well as a pool. 

Max joined you where you were standing and handed you the glass of ice water. “Do you like it?” he asked. 

“The house?” you asked after you took a sip from the glass. “I do. It’s pretty.”

“I wish it was a little bigger,” he said, looking up to the balcony that overlooked the sitting area. 

You almost choked. “Bigger?” you asked. “What for?”

He shrugged, his hands on his hips. “It would be nice if there were more space for if Alistair wanted friends over, or—” He stopped when he noticed you staring blankly at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said, turning your head towards the front door and sipping from your glass. 

“No, what is it?” he asked with a soft laugh. 

You hesitated again. “It seems lonely,” you said softly. “Just you in this big house. I can’t imagine how it would feel if it were bigger.” 

Maxwell crossed his arms over his chest, seeming to consider your comment. “You’ve got a point,” he said softly. He looked at you, and you were once again consumed by the rich brown of his irises. “It would be nice to share it with someone again.” 

You really did choke on your water this time, and you handed Max your glass as you coughed into your hand. 

“Are you okay?” he asked in alarm. He reached out with the hand not holding your glass, but you skittered away. 

“I, um, just remembered that I have to do something at home,” you lied, backing towards the door. 

Just then, Alistair came down the stairs, dressed in a new shirt. “Are you leaving?” he asked, watching you continue towards the door. 

“Sorry, buddy, I gotta go back home,” you told him. “I’m glad you’re okay.” You turned to face his crestfallen father. “Thank you for the water, Mr. Lord. Bye, Alistair.” You barely gave them time to bade you goodbye in return before you were scrambling out the door and towards your car. You heard the door shut, and then open again. You glanced behind to see Maxwell walking briskly towards you. 

“Max—”

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately as he caught up with you. 

“About what?” you asked dubiously.

“About everything,” said Max. “About asking you to come over, about making you call me three times a week, about—”

“It’s fine, Max,” you replied, hoping to be able to get out of there soon. 

“You’re upset,” he stated. “So, no, it’s not fine.” He caught your wrist before you could open your car door. Now Max was the one stopping you from leaving, mirroring the day you met him. “I like you a lot, (Y/N),” Max said softly. “I wish you wouldn’t leave.” 

Your heart thudded in your chest. Over the short time you had known him personally, Max had been able to endear himself to you quite a bit. It helped that you already cared for his son. “Max,” you started, just as softly, “We— This— Can’t happen. It’s against school policy for me to date the parent of one of my students.” 

Max’s hand on your wrist tightened briefly before letting go. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Strands of his blond hair fell against his forehead, obscuring his eyes from you for a moment before he looked at you again. His face was brighter. “The semester is almost over,” he realized. “Maybe when summer starts—?”

“Maxwell,” you exhaled in exasperation. 

“I would wait,” he said quickly. “You wouldn’t need to do the tri-weekly check-ins, unless you wanted to.” Max smiled slyly. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” 

You rolled your eyes. “No offense, Max, but you can be kind of an ass sometimes,” you said, shutting your eyes and rubbing your temple. 

“Comes with the territory, I’m afraid,” he agreed. “You don’t get far in the oil business by being nice. Or—” Max stepped a little closer to you. “—By being afraid to take what you want.” 

You stared up at him, a mix of annoyed and affectionate. After a moment, you said, “I’m cutting the phone calls down to once a week.” 

Max grinned. “And after school ends?” he prompted. 

“We’ll see,” you said dryly. “May I go home now?” 

“Of course.” Maxwell backed up enough that you could get into your car, then knocked on the closed window as soon as you shut the door. 

You took a deep breath and exhaled heavily through your nose. Damn this man. You rolled down your window and watched as he bent down to speak to you. “What?” 

“You know, as soon as school is out, Alistair’s mother is taking him on a trip to California,” he informed you. 

“How exciting,” you said blandly. 

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll be all by myself in this big lonely house—”

“Goodbye, Mr. Lord,” you said loudly, rolling up the window. He had to snatch his hands away before you caught his fingers in the door. You could hear him call out to you as you started up the car, but you ignored him and pulled out of the drive. He was still standing there as you turned onto the street and began your drive back to your house. 

* * *

Maxwell was obviously trying hard to respect your wishes, but somehow he still failed. He didn’t call first, but he always answered within the first ring when you made your weekly phone call. There wasn’t a lot to talk about; Alistair’s behavior was great, as always, and his work had improved since his father had decided to take more interest in him. Regardless, Max tried to keep you on the phone for as long as he could, asking how your day was and what your week was going to look like. On more than one occasion, the front office called you to tell you that there had been flowers delivered for you from a secret admirer. Secret, he was not, nor was he discreet. Still, he didn’t visit, or ask you out, so you counted that as a small success. Plus, the flowers were pretty, and the kids loved them, so you couldn’t really be mad. You thought maybe he could make it to summer. 

He had been so close. 

It was the last day of school, and a half-day at that. All the kids had streamed out of your classroom, some teary-eyed, but most just excited for summer. Alistair had been picked up by his mom. There was no reason for Maxwell Lord to be in your classroom.

Yet, there he was, standing in the center of your classroom and staring at the posters of multiplication tables on your cabinet doors. Max had his hands in his pockets, his suit jacket pushed back to reveal his blue button-up and colorful tie. He turned to smile at you when you opened the door. “I see you got my flowers,” said Max in greeting. 

“Max,” you breathed. “What are you—?”

“It’s the end of the school year,” he explained. 

“So you came to see me at work?” you asked, walking up to him. “That’s— I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” he asked, his lips quirked in a smirk. “I knew you wouldn’t be home yet, and I didn’t feel like waiting.”

“You’re impossible,” you told him. 

“Maybe,” Max conceded. “Will you have lunch with me?”

You eyed him skeptically. “Where?” 

“Anywhere you want to go,” said Max. “I’ll buy.”

“Anywhere?” you repeated.

“Anywhere,” he confirmed. 

You thought about it. “Okay,” you said. “I’ll let you take me to lunch.”

Maxwell beamed. “Really?”

You chuckled. “Were you expecting me to say no?” you chided. 

“No, but I wasn’t expecting a yes so quickly,” explained Max. “Where do you want to go?” He followed you as you went to your desk. You began to clean up and get ready to leave, and Maxwell was practically bouncing up and down. “Do you want Italian food? I know a great little spot—”

“I want McDonald’s,” you said simply, shouldering your purse. 

“What?” He pretended to clean out his ear, making sure he heard you right. “(Y/N), I can take you anywhere in the city. Hell, I’ll take you out of the city if you really want. Out of the country, even—”

You interrupted him by placing your hand against his chest. “We get it,” you mused. “You’re rich. But, that doesn’t stop me from craving chicken nuggets.” You patted his chest and moved around him to get your jacket by the door. You turned to face him with one hand on the door handle. Maxwell was still fixed in place, though he had turned to face you. “Are we going or what?”

That seemed to snap him out of his stupor and he nodded, following you out of the room. Max stood behind you as you locked the classroom door, and you almost bumped into him as you turned. “Are you driving too?” you asked. 

“I have a driver this time, actually,” he told you, almost sheepishly. 

Outside the school, a sleek, black Lincoln Towncar sat idling, the driver resting against the driver’s side door. He perked up as you and Max exited the building. The driver opened the back door for you, and you slid inside the car, making room so Max could enter beside you. There was plenty of space in the backseat, but you still felt a little claustrophobic seated next to Max and his broad shoulders. There was a partition installed, which Max rolled down to tell the driver where to go. When he sat back, he smiled at you. “McDonald’s it is,” Max said. 

The drive to the fast food joint was relatively quiet, the sound of music from the radio filling the silence. Just as the driver turned into the parking lot, Max turned to you. “You wanted to eat inside, right?” he asked dubiously. “Not go through the drive-thru?” 

“Right,” you confirmed with a laugh. “We can sit down properly and eat.”

He exhaled and pressed his hand to his chest. “Oh thank goodness,” Max said in jest. “I was worried this date was going to be much shorter than I expected.” 

“Is that what this is?”

“Did you think it was something else?”

You smiled, looking away. “No,” you said. “Not really. Just making sure.”

The driver parked and opened the door for you and Max. Max helped you out as you slid from the backseat, taking your hand and steadying you when you almost tripped. “Careful,” he said quietly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Right,” you said with a soft laugh. “Sorry.” Max let go of your hand and you slipped it around his arm. It was nice to be close to him, even if it was only while he led you into the McDonald’s and up to the counter. You both ordered, chicken nuggets for you and a quarter pounder for Max, and Max paid, as promised. You slid into a booth, Max sliding in across from you. “Thanks for doing this,” you said. “I know it’s silly.”

“It isn’t silly at all,” he countered. “Unexpected, sure, but that’s what I’ve come to expect from you.”

“Expect the unexpected?” you asked jokingly.

He looked down and smiled, fiddling with the receipt. Not for the first time, you marveled at how pretty his smile was. “That’s right,” he agreed. “You’re always surprising me.” 

You laughed softly. “I don’t know what to say,” you mused.

“Another surprise. You always seem to know just what to say,” Max said. “It’s one of the things I like about you.” 

“Part of being a teacher is improvisation,” you explained. “I’ve gotten pretty good at thinking on my toes.” The reality of his statement hit you and made your cheeks flush. “What, um— What else do you like about me?” 

Maxwell leaned back in his seat and grinned. “If I listed everything, we’d be here a long time,” he mused. “But, if you really want to know—”

“Ah,” you interrupted hurriedly, “No, that’s okay. I don’t think I could take an ego boost right now.”

Max laughed. “Maybe we can get into it later.”

“Later?”

“I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but after lunch, I was going to invite you over,” he said. 

“T-To your house?” you asked, your eyes widening.

“Sure,” he said easily. “You’ve been there before.” Max looked up as your order was brought to you on a tray and flashed a smile to the employee. 

“Hey,” the employee said, pointing at Max. “I know you! You’re the guy on TV! Oh man, you helped my cousin make, like, a ton of money. Will you do the thing?” 

Max looked at you and gave a good-natured shrug before turning back to the employee. “Life is good,” he quoted. “But it can be better.”

“Yes!” the employee cheered. “Thanks, Mr. Lord.”

“It’s no trouble,” Max said with a smile. “Thank you for the food.”

The employee flush, nodded, and left quickly. 

“Does that happen a lot?” you asked, popping open the container for your McNuggets. “Getting recognized?”

“From time to time,” Max said modestly before popping a fry into his mouth.

“Do people ever ask for autographs?” you teased.

Max laughed. “Why? Did you want one?”

You shook your head. “Just need to know what I’m getting into.” At Maxwell’s raised eyebrows, you clarified, “Potentially. Potentially getting into.”

“If you let me take you to places with more” — Max looked around the McDonald’s in consideration— “class, it’s less likely we’ll be approached.” 

“Class means I have to dress up,” you groaned. “I wasn’t going to let you take me anywhere fancy after a school day. I look wretched.”

Max’s eyebrows furrowed and he leaned forward. “I think you look beautiful,” he said, a trace of hurt in his voice. “You would look amazing no matter what you were wearing.” 

Just when your cheeks were starting to cool, he had you blushing again. You looked down at your food and grumbled, “Charmer.” 

The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, with maybe a humorous remark or two. You were still thinking about his compliments and invitation to come over after lunch. If you said yes, what would happen? Did he expect something in return for paying for lunch? Your eyes flicked up from your food to look at him. Would you mind it if he did? What would you be willing to give him? When even was the last time you had se—

“Are you okay?” Max asked, concern etched into his features. “You’re looking at me really intensely.”

“Huh?” You snapped out of your thoughts and swallowed hard. “Oh! Sorry. Just thinking.” 

He gave you a wry smile as his face relaxed. “What are you thinking about?” he asked smoothly, his voice rumbling in a way that shot right through you. 

“It’s a secret,” you said coyly. 

“Won’t you tell me?” he pleaded. “I have to know why you were looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” He mulled it over in his head. “Like you were sizing me up.”

“Maybe I was,” you mused. 

“What for?”

You took a sip of your drink. “I’ll tell you later,” you said. 

Max crumpled up the wrapper from his burger and dropped it onto the tray. “So you’ve decided to take up my offer?”

“Maybe,” you said. “But I want to drive there myself, so you’ll need to drop me back at the school.”

“That’s no issue,” he assured you, beaming. “Whatever you want.” He gestured to the empty tray. “All done?”

“All done,” you confirmed, sliding out of the booth. You took up the tray before he could and dumped the trash in the garbage can. As you walked towards the door, Max caught up to you and placed his hand on your lower back. Resisting the urge to press into his hand, you walked towards the car, sliding in the backseat as soon as the door was opened for you. Max slid in beside you. He rolled up the partition almost all the way up and settled back into his seat. His legs spread open as he got comfortable, and your eyes were drawn to the way his pants stretched around his thighs. You swallowed hard, looking away. Your attraction to Max had been growing steadily, and it took a sharp sudden spike that made your nerves tingle. 

On the way back to the school, Max leaned over to you. “Why are you so quiet?” he murmured in your ear. “Thinking about me again?”

You inhaled sharply, glancing at him. “Am I that obvious?” you asked weakly. 

“You don’t have to fight it,” he cooed. “I’m thinking about you, too.” 

“Max—”

He tentatively reached his hand out, and when you didn’t stop him, he set his hand on your thigh, just above your knee. “You’re all I’ve been able to think about since I met you.” The heat from his hand seeped through the thin fabric of your pants. His thumb began to rub against your leg in light brushes. “It’s been driving me crazy,” Max told you. The smooth tone of his voice was addicting. You desperately wished he would keep talking. He moved his hand further up, stopping around mid-thigh. “It’s been the same for you, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” you breathed without thinking. 

“I knew it,” he sighed happily. “I’ll do anything you want, (Y/N), just tell me and it’s yours.”

You swallowed hard, spreading your legs every so slightly. Max’s hand curled tighter around your thigh, his grip soft on your inner thigh. “K-Keep talking,” you said. “Please.” 

“Do you like my voice, baby?” You could tell he was smiling, even without looking at him. When you nodded, he chuckled lowly, squeezing your thigh. “I want to hear you say it.”

You choked down a whimper. “Max,” you whined quietly. “Don’t.”

“Aw, are you embarrassed, sweetheart?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. “You’re too cute.” His fingers edged further up your inner thigh. “Driver,” he called, “How long until we reach the school?”

“About five minutes, Mr. Lord,” the driver answered dutifully. 

“Thank you.” Max returned his attention to you. When you looked up at him, you could see that you weren’t the only one aroused by the situation. Your eyes flickered down to his lap. Yeah, definitely not just you. “Can I kiss you?” Max asked you quietly. 

Your eyes immediately went to his lips. “Okay,” you said, leaning closer to close the distance between the two of you. 

Max closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours briefly before he kissed you. You gasped softly at the feeling, another hot bolt of arousal surging through you. His hand on your thigh tightened, and he pulled slightly, further spreading your legs. His fingertips crept up your inner thigh. His lips moved against yours expertly, making you dizzy. When you parted from him, your heart was racing and you sucked in a breath. “Max,” you murmured.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he groaned. Unable to help himself, he stole another kiss. 

Just as his hand reached the apex of your thigh, the car rolled to a stop in front of the school. You pulled away from him fully and tried to catch your breath. “S-So, I’ll see you at your house?” you asked, straightening your clothing and brushing back your hair. 

“I wish you would ride with me,” Max pleaded with a soft pout. 

“Judging from the ride back here, I think it’s better I don’t,” you retorted. Still, you couldn’t resist kissing him again as the car door was opened for you. “I’ll see you soon,” you promised, climbing out of the car. 

“I can’t wait,” Max called back. 

You thanked the driver and went back into the school, walking through the building to the parking lot in the back. As you walked, you took deep breaths, trying to dampen your arousal. Damn that man, he was trouble. Trouble you didn’t necessarily mind getting into. 

You sped all the way to Max’s house, and ended up getting there just as he got out of the Towncar. You parked in the circle drive and checked your reflection in the rearview mirror. You fluffed your hair and put on some lip balm. Good enough.

He was leaning against the hood of your car when you got out. “Great timing, sweetheart,” he mused. “Did you break the speed limit?”

“I went 80 on the highway,” you admitted. 

“That’s my girl,” he purred. Max offered you his hand, and you took it, allowing him to lead you into the house. You didn’t get much farther than the front door. Mostly because as soon as you were inside, he had you pressed against it. You gasped against his lips as his hips canted against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, threading one hand in his thick hair. The feeling of his hair between your fingers was delectable, and you couldn’t resist tugging the hair at the base of his head. Max growled into your mouth and moved his hands from your waist to your hips. 

You parted from him, resting your head against the door, and Max took the opportunity of your head being tilted back to attack your neck. You sucked in a breath as his lips skimmed along the column of your throat. When he nipped your skin, your hips bucked against his. “Max,” you gasped. 

“What, baby?” he murmured against the shell of your ear. “What can I do for you?”

“M-Maybe you could give me a tour?” you managed with a small laugh. “So far I’ve only seen the kitchen. I’m also very familiar with the foyer.” 

“I’m loath to move you,” Max murmured. “Do we have to?”

“The least you can do is show me the bedroom,” you purred in return. 

He sighed softly against your skin, his forehead falling against your shoulder. “You’re perfect,” he stated simply. Max straightened, cupping your cheek with his hand, and kissed you again, softer this time. “I’m keeping you,” he decided. 

“Wha—?”

You didn’t have time to finish your sentence because Max scooped you up and started carrying you to a part of the house you hadn’t seen before. He brought you past the stairs and kitchen, to a back hall. He set you down so he could open the door to his room, and then Max dragged you inside. His bedroom was as grand as the rest of the house, gilded and open with a king sized bed and tall windows that were currently covered by white curtains. “It’s beautiful,” you told him, looking around. 

Max moved behind you, his arms snaking around your waist. He kissed the juncture of your shoulder and neck. “Not as beautiful as you,” he cooed. With your back to him, you could feel his erection press against your ass, prompting another wave of arousal to roll through you. You subtly moved your hips. Max groaned against the shell of your ear. “Is this what you wanted, (Y/N)?”

You shivered. “Yes,” you breathed. 

“Is this all you wanted?”

“N-No,” you admitted. “I want more.” 

Max pulled away from you just enough to turn you around so he could kiss you. You pushed the suit jacket from his shoulders, and he allowed it to fall, backing you up towards the bed. You pulled the knot from his tie and began to, albeit sloppily, unbutton his shirt. The backs of your knees hit the bed, and you sat, looking up at him with big eyes. Max shouldered off his suspenders and cupped your chin, his thumb brushing across your lips. You parted your lips, and his thumb delved inside your mouth. You let him in and closed your lips around his thumb, sliding your tongue lightly over the pad. Max’s eyes softened and his mouth opened. “You,” he breathed, “are amazing. And ridiculously hot.” 

You pulled off his thumb with a soft pop and tugged him closer by his belt loops. “Max?” you asked quietly. 

He glanced away from his shirt, which he had just finished unbuttoning. “Yes?”

“You said I could have anything I wanted, right?”

“Anything,” he answered immediately. “I’ll give you anything. Everything.” 

You moved him just enough that you could kneel in front of him. “Can I have your cock in my mouth?” 

“I can’t say no to that,” Max breathed with a laugh. 

You grinned and unbuttoned his fly, pulling down his zipper slowly. You dragged his pants down to his knees and marveled at his tented boxers for a moment before you pulled those down as well. His cock was heavy in your hand as you stroked it before pressing the head against your lips. Your tongue ventured out and you licked the slit, gathering precum on your tongue. Max’s hand snaked into your hair, resting against your head without pushing. You took him into your mouth, letting your eyes fall shut as you began to bob slowly, making up for what you couldn’t fit in your mouth by using your hand. 

Maxwell moaned softly. His head tilted back and the hand in your hand tightened slightly. “You’re so fucking good,” he announced. Another jolt of arousal. That was the first time you had heard him curse. 

You moaned around him and started bobbing faster. 

“Shit,” he hissed. “That’s right. You like when I talk to you. Do you like when I tell you you’re doing a good job?”

You pulled off just long enough to gasp, “Yes.”

“Babygirl,” groaned Max. “Fucking perfect. So warm and wet. I bet your pussy is even better.” 

You whined around his cock and pulled off, licking a stripe from base to tip with the flat of your tongue. 

Maxwell uttered another moan. “Oh God, you’re so sexy,” he told you. “You look gorgeous with my cock in your mouth.” He made a little gasping sort of laugh as you attempted to take all of him in your mouth and ended up gagging. “Is it too much, baby?” 

“S’just big,” you said. “I can take it.”

“Of course you can,” he mused. “Stand up for me, (Y/N).” At his request, you stood, lifting your blouse up and over your head as you did so. Max pulled you into a kiss, one hand holding your waist while the other slipped between your legs. He cupped your pussy through your pants, his fingertips pressing against your covered opening. “I bet you’re soaking,” Max rasped. “Can I check?”

At your shaky nod, he undid the fly of your pants and pulled down the zipper in one fluid movement, sliding his hand into your underwear. 

“Oh my God,” he groaned, his breath ghosting against your lips. “Take off your pants and get on the bed.” 

You hastily did as he said, almost tripping over yourself. You landed on the bed with a soft “oof” and crawled to the center. Maxwell tucked himself back into his boxers and kicked away his pants as well, shouldering off his unbuttoned dress shirt. He joined you on the bed, covering your body with his. He settled between your legs, and you clung to him, kissing him with a desperation previously unseen. Max ground against you slowly, teasingly, and took your desperate kisses, swallowing the soft moans that came from your throat with every swipe of his hips. 

Max’s lips moved to your throat, giving you the opportunity to breathe and attempt to collect yourself. “Max,” you keened as he sucked a hickey into your collarbone. “I need—”

You felt him smile against your skin. “What do you need?” he asked in a hush. “Tell me.”

“Touch me,” you begged. “Please, I can’t—”

Max shushed you softly, moving off of you so he could slip his hand between your legs. He rubbed you slowly through your soaked panties, skimming over your pussy with hardly any pressure. You ached for his touch, and tried to push into his hand. He resisted, choosing to go at his own pace instead of yours. Max kept his touch light, his mouth attached to your neck the whole time. You were so thankful summer break had started; otherwise, you would have had to start making scarves part of your wardrobe. Not very subtle in the warm D.C. summers. 

“Does it feel good, (Y/N)?” Max murmured. “Do you want more?”

“Yes,” you gasped. “God, yes, please, Max, I can’t—” 

“I got you, babygirl. Be patient for me,” he cooed. “You’re being so good.” Max slid his hand into your panties. He spread your labia and slid the pad of his middle finger slowly over your swollen clit, making you moan. “You’re desperate, aren’t you?” He dipped his fingers lower, slipping his middle finger into your pussy with one easy thrust. 

You panted softly and turned your head, dragging him into a kiss. You spread your legs wider as he began to slowly thrust his middle finger in and out of you. Once you had adjusted, he added his index finger, filling you up with his thick digits. “Max,” you whined against his mouth. “That feels— So good.” You swallowed hard. Max was so close, but he wasn’t quite close enough. You grabbed his arm and tugged him until he got the message and moved over you. He kept his fingers in you, using his free hand to support himself. You reached down and squeezed his cock through his boxers, panting against his mouth. 

Max curled his fingers, rubbing against the most sensitive part inside you. “You want my cock, sweetheart?” he rasped softly. “Want me to fuck you?”

You moaned and nodded quickly. You squeezed his cock again, brushing your thumb over the head. “Fuck yes,” you panted. “Will you? Please?”

Max smiled handsomely, leaning down to kiss you. He dragged his hand from you, brushing his thumb in slow circles around your clit. The fire of arousal in your belly was becoming almost unbearable. “It’s impossible to say no when you ask me so prettily,” he murmured. “Ask me again.” 

“Max,” you whined, “Please fuck me. Please!” You bucked against his hand and shuddered. 

He pressed his cock further into your hand and laughed softly, the sound more of an exhale than anything. “More of a demand than a question, but I’ll allow it,” he conceded. Max pulled his hand away out of your underwear and moved away from you. He slid off the bed and opened the bedside drawer, pulling out a condom. While he did that, you wriggled out of your panties and popped the clasp on your bra, tossing it away. When Max turned back to you, his face went slack in awe. “You are so unbelievably beautiful,” he marveled, crawling 

You flushed and had to look away. “You’re too sweet,” you murmured. When you looked back up at him, he had kicked away his boxers and was rolling on the condom. The sight made your mouth water. “Oh fuck,” you whispered. 

Max smiled. “Lay back for me, babygirl. Spread those pretty legs.”

You did as requested and he settled between your legs, his pelvis flush against yours. He kissed you while he guided himself inside you, and you inhaled sharply through your nose. You wrapped your arms around him and dug your nails into his back, trying not to clench against the dull pain of the intrusion. “Relax, (Y/N),” Max purred, kissing down your jaw. “I got you, baby. You’re so beautiful. Let me take care of you.” 

“Max,” you gasped, clinging to him.

“Baby, you have to relax,” he soothed, shifting his weight so he could rub your thigh comfortingly. “If you keep squeezing me like that, I’m gonna cum sooner than I’d like.”

You swallowed hard and nodded, taking deep breaths as you tried to relax. Then he shifted, pushing all the way in, and you clenched again, this time as pleasure rocked through you. He began to move achingly slow, each thrust a smooth roll of his hips. You pulled him into a kiss, moaning against his lips when he hit that spot inside you that made you see stars. “You feel fucking amazing,” he murmured softly. “You’re being so good, taking all of me. Will you do something for me?”

“Anything,” you sighed, arching your back. You hooked your leg on his hip, pulling him deeper inside you. “Oh fuck, I’ll do anything, Max, just tell me.”

“You are so good for me, babygirl. Will you touch yourself for me? Rub your clit.” His head dipped as he watched you snake a hand between your legs. You rubbed fast circles on your clit, panting as you quickly approached your peak. “Fucking perfect,” he breathed. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes,” you sighed. “It feels so good, I love the way your cock fills me, Max, I—” You were cut off by your own gasping moan. The hand you still hand on his back curled and you dragged your nails down his back, making him buck into you. His thrusts sped up, and he shifted his weight again to be able to fuck you better. “Oh my God,” you gasped. “I’m so close, please please please—” 

“Yes,” Max exhaled, his head tilting back. An expression of ecstasy spread across his features, a lazy smile playing on his lips. He ducked his head, speaking in your ear. “Cum for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you cum on my cock.” Max nipped at your throat, just under your jaw. “Please, (Y/N), I need it.”

You nodded, panting heavily. Your hand sped up, and the feeling of his thrusts added to the hot sparks bleeding into your nerves became overwhelming. Your eyes fell shut and you arched your back, clenching tightly around him as your orgasm racked through you. “Max,” you moaned pitifully, clinging to him. “Fuck, I—”

He cut you off by smashing his lips into yours. He clung to you in return, his thrusts deepening as he settled against you. You could feel him entirely, and it made your head spin. “You feel so fucking good,” he sighed. “I love this pussy. I could fuck you forever, babygirl. Would you like that?”

“Y-Yes,” you said. You slid your hands to his hair, tugging the hair at the base of his skull. He grunted, smiling ruefully as he rolled his hips harder. “Do you like that, Max?” you purred. “When I pull your hair?”

“You’re too hot for your own good,” Max murmured, avoiding the question. Instead, he crashed his lips back into yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth. He swallowed the desperate moans and gasps that came out of you with each thrust of his hips. You tugged his hair again and he groaned. “You’re being bratty, babygirl,” he breathed against your mouth. “Do you want me to punish you?” 

You shivered, blinking up at him. “Wh-What kind of punishment?” you asked, more to tease than anything.

He pulled out of you, making you whine. “Turn over,” he ordered. 

You rolled over, waiting to see what Max would do. He grabbed a thigh in each hand and brought them together until your knees touched. “Lift your hips a little, (Y/N).” You pressed your head against the pillows and lifted your ass more. His hand came down fast, spanking your right ass cheek. You squeaked and buried your face in the pillows to stifle your moan. “Of course you like that,” he mused. “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you baby? My dirty girl.” 

His. His dirty girl. You turned back to face him, panting softly and nodding. 

His smile was bright as he gripped your hips and straddled your thighs. “I can’t punish you, (Y/N),” he purred. “You’re too good. You deserve a reward.” He lined his cock up with your entrance and pushed in slowly. His moans mixed with yours, low and slow. “So fucking good,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Do I feel good, Max?” you asked between pants. You lifted your hips to accommodate him. “Are you gonna cum in me? Fill me up?”

“Oh fuck, (Y/N),” Maxwell groaned. “Yes. I’m going to fucking wreck you. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” you keened. “I need it, Max.”

He moaned, resting his forehead against your back. “This ass is—” He smacked your left asscheek and then the right again. “Fucking phenomenal. You’re so fucking hot.” Max gasped when your walls fluttered around his cock. “Can I cum in you, babygirl?” 

You nodded quickly, clutching desperately at the sheets and pillows, trying to find purchase to keep from sinking into pleasure once again. It was no use, though. Max pushed as deep into you as he could, making stars appear in your vision. You cried out. “Max!”

“That’s it,” he hissed. With his arm secured tightly around your waist, he lifted you until your back was pressed against his chest. “I’m going to ruin you,” Max growled in your ear. “Take all of it. Good girl.”

Your head dropped, exhaustion seeping into your bones as he came in you, the condom filling up. You could feel his cock pulse as he came. His breath came out in harsh pants, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. He lowered you carefully to the bed and settled on top of you, careful to not suffocate you. “Oh my God,” he whispered in your ear. 

You mumbled an affirmative. That was about all you could muster. 

Eventually, he pulled out of you, tying up the condom and tossing it in a garbage can. Max slipped his boxers back on and crawled onto the bed beside you. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked gently, stroking your back. 

“Maxwell, I couldn’t be better,” you replied sleepily as you arched into his hand.

“Do you want to get under the blankets?” Max asked, amusement clear in his voice.

You nodded, but didn’t move to expend any energy to do so. 

Max, thankfully, didn’t need any persuading to help. He pulled back the covers from under the pillows and maneuvered you until you were safe beneath them. He slipped in beside you, and you immediately cuddled up to him. “There we go,” he mused. “Better?”

“Better,” you confirmed. You yawned and slung your leg across your hips. “Thanks, Maxie.”

He laughed, a low snicker. “Maxie?” he repeated. 

“What, you don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Max said. 

“Mmm, good,” you sighed, snuggling up to him. You kissed his neck, nipping him as he had done to you earlier. “I like you.”

Max sighed happily. “I like you, too, (Y/N).” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to kiss your forehead. 

You nuzzled his shoulder and rolled your hips, inhaling sharply as your oversensitive clit pressed against his hip. 

“Do you want to go again?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. 

“N-No,” you said with a soft laugh. “Not yet, at least. I’m just sensitive.”

“Not yet, she says,” Max hummed. “Dirty girl.” He pulled you in with both arms and kissed you affectionately. “Stay with me for the summer,” he proposed.

“Wh—” You sat up, furrowing your eyebrows. “The whole summer?” you asked. 

“As long as you like,” he amended. “But, yes. The whole summer. We can go to one of my lake houses, or stay here. Whatever you wish.” 

You bit your lip as you considered his offer. If you stayed with him, that meant more mind-blowing sex. Plus, it wasn’t like you had much else to do besides lesson-plan for the new school year. Maxwell waited patiently for your answer, one hand behind his head. His pecs flexed as he stretched, and suddenly all you wanted to do was fuck him again. Your sex-addled brain seemed to know exactly how to answer. You may regret it later, but that was a future-you problem. “Yeah,” you said with a smile. 

“Yeah?” Max repeated, returning your smile and sitting up.

You nodded, and Max’s smile grew. He kissed you happily, pulling you on top of him. His hands skated down your waist to your ass, and he squeezed, letting out a satisfied sigh. 

“Thank you,” Max said softly. 

“I think I should be thanking you,” you mused, drawing little circles on his chest. 

“No, it’s me,” he said. “This summer is going to be amazing.”

You grinned. “Yeah,” you agreed. “It is.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't mind me, just almost 10,000 words of me thirsting after Maxwell Lord. 
> 
> This is part of my gimme, gimme, gimme series, a collection of (sometimes) request-based oneshots of varying fandoms. Requests are always open, so don't be afraid to comment or message me! Let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.


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